It took incredible force of will for Mitchell to crouch there, peering from behind the cracked door as Fang Zhi jogged right by him.

Yes, Mitchell could have chanced an interception. But any noise, even the slightest, could alert Colonel Xu--and he was the true target.

Behind Mitchell, Smith held the young village man and his wife at gunpoint, his finger to his lips after he'd ordered them to be quiet in Mandarin.

For a long moment, Mitchell remained there, just breathing, his thoughts lost in another decade, in a moment that turned his blood cold.

"Boss? We ready?"

Mitchell stared through the sergeant. Only one fact registered: that he had allowed Fang to walk away.

"Boss?"

"Yeah. Come on. Three doors down. Let's do it."

Mitchell stood, slid over his Cross-Com's monocle, then he and Smith reached into their packs and tugged out their lightweight enhanced night-vision goggles (ENVGs). Their eyes had adjusted to the outside, but they wouldn't take chances within the darker confines of Xu's room. The straps fit firmly over their heads.

Mitchell opened the door and returned to the balcony. He skulked along the wall with Smith in his shadow. They reached Xu's door and took up positions on either side. Mitchell gave Smith a terse nod.

As the sergeant's size-thirteen foot connected with the warped wood, a gunshot rang out in the distance, leaving Mitchell confused as the door swung open and he dropped to the floor, with Smith coming in above him.

In a bed on the opposite side of the room lay a screaming woman pulling blankets up to her neck. Next to her, on the side nearest Mitchell, was the young colonel, who rolled over toward a small nightstand, where his sidearm sat in its holster.

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-SEVEN

HAKKA CASTLE
XIAMEN, CHINA
APRIL 2012

After more than an hour's worth of dizzying passion, Colonel Xu Dingfa had fallen onto the bed, breathless and relaxed, with the comfort girl's head resting gently on his chest. He had vowed in the morning to ask her name and make arrangements to see her again.

He'd thought he'd been dreaming when the door had smashed inward, the faint light from the candle near the bed illuminating two figures, their faces concealed by masks, their night-vision goggles protruding like antennae from their heads. One was hunkered down, one stood, and as Xu's eyes had opened wider, he'd spotted their guns.

The reach for his own weapon was instinctual, worthless, really, but he couldn't just lie there.

Now, as the girl screamed and the first silenced rounds finished her, Xu wondered who was responsible for his death. Who had betrayed him? Fang? Had the man been lying in wait for these past four years, a tiger himself? No, it couldn't be. Could it?

The shots ripped through Xu's chest, and it took another second for the pain to register like a claw shredding his gut with slow, even strokes. He coughed, and his mouth immediately filled with blood.